A few weeks ago, I wrote a column entitled, “Medication.” The gist of the column
was that I encourage parents to discuss both main effects and side effects with
children who are taking medication. I want the child to know how a medication
is supposed to help him, and to be alert to how it might be affecting him in other
ways he should report to a parent. Also, I want parents to hear from their child
what it means to him to be taking medication.

I heard some very interesting things from you in response to that column. This
week, I will share with you a response from a colleague, a response from a parent,
and a response from a child.

A good friend and esteemed colleague wrote:

I have also had the conversation with clients who resist medication, stating, often,
that "I want to deal with this all by myself". One strategy I use is to pose to the
client, "If you had a tree in your back yard, and you were told that you have to take
it down 'all by yourself', would that mean that you are permitted to use only your
teeth and fingernails? Is it cheating to use a saw or an axe?" Maybe doing it "all
by yourself" can mean being in charge of making the wisest possible choice to use
the best suited tool for the job.

I like her metaphor. I had written about medication as filling in a chisaron, making
up for something that we were lacking. She framed it as enabling us to do even
more, the way that a tool can give us leverage or strength to build upon our
capabilities. The way I thought about it, as filling in a chisaron, the response might
be, “but I don’t want to have to use a crutch. I want to be able to walk on my own.”
The way she presents it, would the response be, “I want to be able to tear the
tree down with my bare hands? “ Probably not. Unless you look around and see
a whole other lot of other people who are able to tear trees down with their bare
hands. You can look at it as missing something that other people aren’t missing
or you can look at it as needing a tool that other people seem not to need. Take
whichever metaphor makes more sense to you, and talk with your child about
medication if you and your child’s physician believe it is appropriate.

A parent’s response to my article was that he did speak with his son about his
son’s medication. He told me he had been reluctant to tell his child that the tablet
he was taking every morning was not really a vitamin, because he would have to
explain to his son that it was really a medication to help him stay focused in school.
But there was more.

I was concerned about how my son would react when I told him he was taking a
medicine because he had trouble focusing in school. I was even more concerned
that he’d be upset with me for misleading him up until now, not telling him
the truth about the pill he was taking. When I finally did tell him, I was really
impressed with his reaction. The first thing he said to me was, “It’s okay, dad. I
know you didn’t want me to feel bad like there was something wrong with me.”
Then he proceeded to tell me that he knew that since he had started taking this pill
he was able to pay attention and understand more of what was going on in school
and he was very happy about it. And then came the icing on that really nice cake;
he thanked me for figuring out something that could help him and making sure that
he got it.

An enlightening response from a colleague, a heartwarming response from a
parent. The response from a child was of a very different nature.

My parents took me to the doctor because they thought I was too sad sometimes
and too energetic other times and they were worried about me. The doctor told
my parents and me that medication would help me be a little less sad and a little
less excitable, and they encouraged me to take it. They were right. I’ve been
taking the medication for a few weeks now, and I certainly do feel different from
how I used to feel. But is this really me? If the real me gets sadder and more
excited than other people do, isn’t that who I am? The medication does make
me feel different, but it makes me feel different from me. Why do I have to take
medication to make me be somebody else instead of who I really am?

My answer was to ask her who she really is. I wasn’t looking at the clock, but it
seemed like a very long time before she looked up and answered me. She said,
“I’m not really sure. How can I ever know?”

At times like that I really value being a family therapist. I turned to her parents,
who were right there with her and me, and said, “What do you think of her? What
does she do well?”

Both her mother and her father said some very nice things about her.

I asked them, “What do you imagine is hard for her? How can you tell when she’s
concerned about something?”

They said that it’s apparently hard for her to take the medication that was
recommended for her and they don’t really understand her concern.

I don’t have a nice “everybody’s happy” ending for this article.

I last met with this family a few years ago. Their daughter had agreed to take
the medication because her parents thought it was important for her. She still
wondered if she liked herself better the way she was without it.

Rabbi Yitzchak Shmuel Ackerman is a Licensed Mental Health Counselor with
specialties in marriage, relationships, and parenting. He works with parents and
educators, and conducts parenting seminars for shuls and organizations. He can be
reached at 718-344-6575.